


The Ecstasy Explosion

by AKABess



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M, SCIENCE!, Threesome - F/M/M, just porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-07
Updated: 2013-01-07
Packaged: 2017-11-24 00:29:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/628229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AKABess/pseuds/AKABess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock accidentally doses himself, his housekeeper (NOT Mrs. Hudson) and John with a biological agent whose side effects include extreme horniness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Ecstasy Explosion

**Author's Note:**

> Laura is an original character, introduced in the other fic I'm working on. That one is slow going, but unconnected porn happened while I was writing, so I decided to share it. Enjoy.
> 
> Also, I am in desperate need for a beta, so if you're interested, please let me know. By the same token, if you notice anything wonky with anything I post, please let me know.

Laura flinched and let out an exasperated sigh when she heard the explosion. “Thank you, Mr. Holmes, because I positively live to clean up your messes…” She straightened from the bathtub she was scrubbing, squared her shoulders and retrieved her cleaning bucket from the floor. Just as she heard the choked call of, “Laura,” she turned into the hall and made her way to the smoke filled kitchen. The vapors were rapidly dissipating, and had very little smell to them, but Sherlock was still waving smoke from his face, and brushing apparently singed hair away from his goggles.

  
“The reaction was a little more than I expected,” he said, as if explaining that would make it any better. He looked at his irate housekeeper and gestured around the room with a thin-lipped smile. “This will need to be tidied up before I continue. I’ll be in the lounge writing up my notes.”

  
Laura gave him a patently false smile and said simply, “Of course, Mr. Holmes.” She moved gingerly into the kitchen, thanking whatever deities could hear that she always wore shoes when she was in 221B. Who knows what a cut would get infected with here. “Mr. Holmes?” she asked just as he reached the doorway. “Is it acid or alkaline?”

Sherlock smiled faintly. The girl was learning. “Neither, actually. Though it does contain biological agents, so be careful of cuts. Actually, gloves may be a good idea,” he said, noting absently that he hadn’t been wearing any. Ah well.

Laura rolled her eyes dramatically. “As if I’d clean up one of your messes without gloves. I just wanted to know if it’d catch on fire if I used the wrong cleaner.” She tugged at her blouse as she bent to sweep up the shards of glass; it had become unbearably itchy. “This had better not be toxic…” she muttered to herself, wishing once again that she had thought to add a dust mask to her cleaning supplies. Not that it would do any good, but it would at least provide the illusion of safety.

In the lounge, Sherlock adjusted his own clothing as he sat down at the desk near the window. As he wrote, he began to note an increasing discomfort in his skin, leading him to open a few buttons and untuck his shirt to loosen the constriction he was feeling.

A few minutes later, as he scratched absently at his thigh through his trousers, Laura entered the room. “Tea?” Then, noticing his scratching, Laura gave him a sideways glance. “You feel it too? The itching?”

Sherlock hummed an inquiry as he finished typing his sentence and accepted the drink. “Yes. Not something I expected. “ His eyes suddenly refocused, as if his gaze had shifted to a point somewhere between himself and the housekeeper. “Show me,” he demanded, reaching for the hem of her blouse.

Astonished, Laura swatted at his hand. “Now wait just a minute,” she said, holding his wrist and backing up half a step warily.

Sherlock let out an impatient little noise, jerking his wrist out of her hand and tilting his head just so to indicate how stupid he thought she was being. “I need to see if a rash is forming. If so, we need to decontaminate immediately.”

“Why not check yourself?” she asked, still wary of the tall man in front of her. Her hand drifted to her stomach, to scratch gently against the fabric.

“I plan to, but I also need to check you.” Seeing that she still wasn’t convinced, he continued. “If I check you first, you get the first shower.”

The woman sighed and her face assumed a resigned attitude. “Fine,” she said, moving to unbutton her blouse as Sherlock fidgeted and watched as her belly appeared and the blouse’s fastenings parted.

When the entire blouse was unbuttoned, Sherlock ducked down, brushing one side away from her abdomen. Abruptly, he had a hand on her waist and was spinning her towards the window while simultaneously dropping to one knee, the better to examine her skin.

Laura felt a little flutter as the momentary dizziness of the abrupt spin left her. She watched the beautiful face move closer to her belly, the hard hand holding her waist gently. After a moment, the other hand was employed to lightly stroke the skin of her stomach, checking for hives, she guessed.

Sherlock stood, and the tremor that went through him was nearly imperceptible. After a short pause to steady himself, he bent again to finish examining the short woman in front of him. She shuddered far more noticeably when he brushed the blouse off her shoulder and ran a hand lightly along the skin there. His breath caught in his throat when the same treatment of the other shoulder resulted in the same reaction.

“Yes, well,” he said, his voice a little rough. “You seem to be clear.”

By now, Laura’s eyes were glued to those of the consulting detective. Hers were glazed, but his were rapidly catching up. Her voice sounded… off, when she spoke. “Thank you,” she said simply. She removed her blouse the rest of the way, sighing in relief as she did so. “It’s better.”

Sherlock’s eyes narrowed. She was acting oddly. But that could wait. He itched abominably and began unbuttoning his own shirt to check for rash. With both of them dosed, he could gain twice the data. As his skin gradually became exposed to the cool air of the room, he did indeed feel relief. The sensation was so enjoyable that he startled when he felt a soft hand brush against his abdomen.

Sherlock’s eyes flickered open, and he realized they had drifted closed as he enjoyed the air across is skin. He glanced down at Laura to see her breathing hard as she caressed his belly and chest in apparent fascination. He felt… disconnected and disoriented. Her hand brushing along his skin felt better than it had any right to feel. He wondered if the phenomenon worked both ways.

Laura gasped when he touched her neck, running a hand down, over her shoulder and onto her back. She stepped forward under the light pressure and suddenly they were both firmly inside each other’s personal space. Both her hands were now engaged in the job of examining his belly, chest, arms and sides with feather-light touches. He ran his hand back up her neck and into her long hair.

The housekeeper and the detective were breathing hard as they continued to stroke each other’s backs, drawing inexorably closer until they were pressed against each other. With a strangled noise, Sherlock ducked his head to press his plump lips to her thinner ones. Her sigh of relief and appreciation was lost in the buzz that filled both of their ears. Her hands moved south to grasp his firm behind, and he continued to stroke her back and fist his hand in the hair at the back of her neck.

She sighed again when he removed her bra, feeling infinitely relieved to have the fabric and constraining elastic off her sensitive skin. Sherlock pulled out of the kiss and his eyes and hand were drawn as if by magnets to her small breasts. He’d never held a breast before, and was absolutely fascinated. Laura gasped when he dropped to his knees to run gentle lips over their swell and lave her nipples with his tongue. She didn't notice when he unfastened her skirt and it fell to the floor, but she did notice that he had one hand massaging her bottom, and the other was twiddling her right nipple.

Abruptly, Sherlock stood again, unfastening his own trousers and letting them drop to the floor. He pulled Laura into another kiss, this one bruising and urgent where the other had been soft and curious. She put up no resistance when he angled them towards the couch, and they both somehow managed to avoid tripping over discarded clothes.

Laura did fall when the back of her knee hit the couch, and Sherlock fell with her. She let out a grunt when his weight landed on her, but he quickly pushed off her again to begin mouthing almost-kisses down her body. She gasped as he got to the top hem of her panties and lifted her head to watch drunkenly as he just breathed damply on her mons pubis. For a moment, he seemed unsure of what to do next. Laura tried to marshal her body to respond and move when he produced a knife from somewhere, but it was like moving through jelly. She could only watch as he brought the knife to the points of her hips, and gasp again at the touch of cold metal against her skin. With a jerk, Sherlock cut through the fabric of her panties, first on one side and then the other. When he looked back up at her face, his eyes were dark, and the knife fell from fingers that itched for something softer to touch.

He quickly moved back up her body, hands running up her waist, over her breasts and then pushed into the couch cushions on either side of her chest to propel him upwards. He groaned as their lips met again, and her inquisitive tongue wetly explored his lips, his teeth, his own tongue. Unconsciously they ground their hips together, rubbing his heavy hardness against her moist heat. After a few moments of mauling each other, she ran a hand down his side and thrust it between their bodies to grasp him through his pants. His gasp turned into a low moan as he pressed his cock into her small hand. She threw her head back, arching up into him. He kissed and bit her neck with a desperate noise and rutted harder against her body and the hand attempting to encircle him through stretchy, damp fabric.

Sherlock groaned in frustration at the not-quite-touching. He needed to feel her skin, to be inside her. Dizzying images of her nails scratching marks into his back, her lips around his cock, her body arched in pleasure as he thrust into her, assaulted his imagination and he roughly shoved his pants down to his knees. Her hands moved to his hair and something close to an affirmative left her mouth, but both were beyond understanding even rudimentary language at this point.

He took his dripping cock and rubbed its tip over her labia and her clitoris. Briefly they thrust against each other, she reveling in the feeling of his hardness pressed against her most sensitive part, him simply enjoying the pressure and the friction. It quickly became apparent that this was not enough, however, and he pushed up off her body for a moment. They both watched as he again rubbed his dripping glans over her labia, providing just a little lubrication for the long, slow thrust into her body. Her back did arch, then, and something resembling a name fell from her lips. He recaptured them against his own, and gave another long thrust; reveling in the shudder it sent through her body.  
With surprising strength, Sherlock levered them to a sitting position, with Laura’s knees straddling him on the couch. Her eyes were shut, but she moved smoothly with his motions, impaling herself on him. His mouth again moved to her breast and she moaned. Neither heard the footsteps on the stairs.

The sound of plastic grocery bags and his own feet on the stairs was loud in John Watson’s ears. He went directly into the kitchen to put the groceries away, and muttered in irritation at the half-cleaned up mess on the table. There had apparently been some effort to tidy away the broken glass, but it had been abandoned before being completed. John put the milk in the fridge and swept the rest of the glass into the cleaning bucket on the floor. He could hear some movement in the lounge behind him, but figured it was just Sherlock skulking.

“You know, you could clean up your own-“ John’s words ended abruptly as he turned around and took in the sight on the couch. “What the hell are you doing?” he asked. It was unclear who he was talking to, but the activity on the couch did not falter.

Sherlock’s eyes popped open, and wide pupils took in the form of his boyfriend standing in the doorway. There was something off, something that didn’t quite fit. He looked strange, not happy and lustful like the detective expected. “John,” or something like it slipped from his parted lips, and the woman riding his cock moaned.

The fury on John’s face would have been unmistakable to anyone who wasn’t currently drugged, but no one in the room fit that description at the moment. Either Sherlock really didn’t see a problem with fucking someone else on their couch, or… Wait. A woman. A woman that Sherlock was on the bare edge of hating. Something odd was going on, John thought as he scratched at his collar. He stomped closer and glared at them while scratching his arm.

Something in the detective’s mind was still making connections, because he blinked and shook his head slightly and told John, “It’ll feel better if you take off the jumper.” Then Laura angled her hips slightly and claimed his mouth for her own as she thrust his body into her own.

John couldn’t believe what he was seeing. This, this… wanton behavior just on display for anyone who cared to watch. It was incredibly filthy, and John decided it was a little too warm for his jumper. The prickly wool caught on his shirt, pulling it over his head and blinding him. He growled in frustration, finally ripping his arms from the sleeves and unbuttoning the top of his shirt blind just so he could pull it off his head. When he was finally free of the jumper and shirt, his eyes were again assaulted with the vigorous fucking going on right in front of him. Sherlock spread his knees and leaned back, and Laura chased his lips down. John could see where he was entering her, and suddenly realized he was hard. The doctor moved a hand down to rub at his cock through his trousers and slowly drifted closer to the couple copulating on the couch. A slurred “Jesus,” escaped his lips on a breath, and he forgot to blink.

After a moment, Sherlock sat up again, and reached one long arm out to the half-naked man just out of reach. As if drawn by force, John moved within range of those graceful fingers. Sherlock snagged his belt and pulled the blond doctor closer, unfastening said belt and the trousers beneath them.

When Laura opened her eyes again, Sherlock and John were kissing as the detective pushed the doctor’s trousers down and kneaded his bum. She licked her lips and ran a hand down John’s chest, eliciting a shiver from the doctor. He pulled back from the detective’s kiss and was drawn into another with the woman. As Laura’s motions stilled, Sherlock took up the thrusting, and she moaned into John’s mouth. Sherlock watched as his cock disappeared into her willing body, and her hand disappeared into John’s pants, causing the doctor to gasp. Sherlock still had a hand on John’s arse, so he began pushing those pants down, rubbing his fingers along the doctor’s flesh.

John tried to move closer and found his legs bound by the by now totally unnecessary clothing around his knees. He stood and shoved the trousers and pants off his legs, toeing off his shoes with surprising dexterity for a man who probably couldn’t tell you his mother’s name at the moment. Laura’s hand never left his cock, and the moment he was done, she leaned over and took it into her mouth, humming with delight. John’s knees nearly gave out, but a deep breath steadied him and he realized his eyes had closed.

When he opened them again, he realized Sherlock was staring, his own mouth hanging open in sympathy. Grinning evilly, John detached himself from Laura and stepped onto the couch to give his throbbing erection to the detective’s very willing mouth.

Laura whined at the removal of her new toy, but she smiled when she saw what John was up to. Her hand wandered south to rub her clit as she again rode Sherlock’s cock, snapping her hips when he was fully engaged. Her hands roamed her own body in search of further stimulation for a time, never settling anywhere for long. Eventually, her hand left her body and began stroking John’s thigh. Brushing up and down, but moving inexorably higher, she eventually reached the soft skin of his scrotum. John shivered when she brushed it, so she quickly wrapped a hand around this thigh and dived into the small space between Sherlock’s face and John’s pelvis. Gently she laved his balls with her tongue, smiling and bucking a little when John would moan or shiver.

Sherlock loved sucking John’s cock. It was one of his favorite pastimes, just after chasing criminals and experimenting with acids and biological matter. Even though his brain was mostly offline, Sherlock’s muscle memory reminded him just what John liked. He swirled his tongue around the tip and then fell onto the cock in a silken slide nearly to the base. Then, with a hard suck, he drew his head away and repeated the process. Little fluttering movements of his tongue followed, and gentle kisses down the shaft. He reached a hand up to fondle John’s balls and encountered the point of Laura’s chin and her neck instead. Smiling against his boyfriend’s magnificent prick, Sherlock moved his hand further, to a point just behind John’s balls and applying just the right amount of pressure. He rubbed gentle circles there while he sucked like a cheap whore. Sherlock felt nearly satisfied, with a cock in his mouth and his own cock buried between Laura’s thrusting thighs. But something it wasn’t quite right yet. He pulled off John’s cock and sucked his own finger as Laura took over the blowjob.

John had no idea how he was still standing, but he had a hand on top of each of the heads below him. When he felt Sherlock pull off, he looked down at the delightfully filthy view below him. John went weak in the knees as Sherlock gazed upward, sucking one of his very long fingers and Laura engulfed him to the root. He groaned when Sherlock pressed that finger to his entrance, and no longer cared how he was still standing.

No one paid any attention to how long they continued this way, but by the time Sherlock had two fingers scissoring in and out of John’s hole, Laura’s face was red and covered with saliva and John’s hand was fisted in her hair. It was time for a change of configuration. Sherlock withdrew his fingers from John’s arse and removed John’s hand from

Laura’s hair. He grasped her hips and pushed her off his cock. John thrust a bottle of lube into his hand, but later no one could say where it had come from. Sherlock and John kissed briefly, and then John turned around to sit on Sherlock’s lap. Sherlock’s hands on John’s hips guided the penetration and both men sighed. The thrusts were slow and satisfyingly deep.

John eyed Laura where she stood, furiously masturbating and watching the two men slowly fuck. He smiled rakishly and beckoned her over. She hopped on top of the pile and John groaned from the sensation of penetrating and being penetrated at the same time. Sherlock picked up the pace as Laura bounced on John’s cock, her fingers on her clit again.

The three sat, heads huddled together as they used each other’s bodies to chase their orgasms. John went first, his clenching arse triggering Sherlock’s release, and Laura riding it all to a screaming orgasm of her own. They lay in a pile on the couch for some time, dozing and breathing in each other’s scent.  
An hour later, when the three began to stir, it was with some embarrassment. John seemed to come into himself first, extracting himself from between Sherlock and Laura and sitting with his head in his hands. His groan roused Sherlock somewhat, and the detective grinned at him. “Sherlock, what the hell just happened?” John asked with a pained look on his face.

Sherlock’s grin faded and he was silent for a moment. “We seem to have been exposed to some sort of aphrodisiac… Oh!” and the genius bolted from the couch for his notes on the desk.

John startled when Sherlock lunged off the couch. “What do you mean, ‘exposed?’ What have you done, Sherlock?” John demanded

The response did not come from the detective, who was busily scribbling notes in a notebook, oblivious to the fact that he was totally nude. Instead, the response was mumbled from the pile of disheveled housekeeper taking up half the couch.

“There was an explosion. Some sort of biological agent, he said.” Laura wiggled deeper into the cushions and managed to look embarrassed. She glanced sharply at John when he began to laugh.

“Of course it was,” and then he couldn’t speak through the laughs for a while. “Sherlock, later we’re going to have a long talk about this.”

Laura sat up and smiled hesitantly at the doctor. “I’m going to take a shower,” she told him, gathering her dignity almost physically about her.

“Mind if I tag along?” John asked.

Laura gaped at him, but his grin hadn’t faded in the slightest. A slow smile spread across her face and she stood up. She was halfway to the kitchen when she turned. “Coming?”


End file.
